Light
by Archaeobee
Summary: Christine had betrayed her Angel, but in the end she could not find it in herself to leave him. Oneshot EC, alternate ending to the Down Once More sequence. Based on the ALW version. [EDITED AND REDONE]


_**Light**_

_By_

_Dream Descends_

"You try my patience - make your _choice_."

Whenever distressed, Christine would call upon the memory of her father's violin playing to settle her nerves and comfort her. She breathed deeply, searching herself for its familiar soothing sound. But all that surfaced were twisted images of roses, red curtains, and prominently, a white porcelain mask.

Even her father had abandoned her now. Here in this infinite darkness that was the Phantom's lair, she was alone. For once in her life, she did not have a guide: first her father, then the courteous and kind Madame Giry, and then her Angel of Music, who had not been an angel at all.

_No,_ she thought furiously, _never an angel._ He stood before her, unmasked in body and soul. His distorted face even more deformed with rage, his love for her morphed into a sickening possessive obsession. His hands fondled his Punjab lasso with care, teasing her and its victim by pulling it and then slackening it in a rhythm that she was sure had been practiced on others in the past.

Across the lake, Raoul squirmed in his noose. Christine observed in numb horror that his face was slowly turning purple with lack of air. Her promise of shelter, of a lifetime without danger lingered at death's door before her. She could save him, but only if she sacrificed herself.

Her body wanted to run, run away and hide until someone held her, murmured comforting words and made this nightmare vanish, like her father did when she was a child. But he was dead, and she was no longer a child. This was her burden, she had brought it upon herself, and now she must deal away with it. This was how her fate would be decided.

She searched the Phantom, as he stood knee-deep in the lake water, searching for the man she had met only days ago, the man who raised her voice and had his own beautiful song to sing. Her Angel with the shining eyes who spoke of everlasting love, not everlasting death.

Slowly, she stepped into the freezing water, a light ripple spreading around her dress. The reflection of the flickering candles danced on her skirt. The sounds of the approaching mob echoed in the distance.

_Give me strength, Father._

"_Pitiful creature of darkness,"_ she sang softly, amazed at how his infuriated countenance slipped so quickly away into uncertainty. _"What kind of life have you known?"_

His hands fell to his sides and she vaguely heard Raoul gasp for breath to her right. But her eyes never left the Phantom, never strayed from his own gaze. As she moved closer, she saw the fresh tears glistening in them, and was sorely reminded of _Don Juan Triumphant_, and the pained, accepting look he had given her when she tore off his mask.

Those eyes that show all the sadness in the world…

_Those eyes that both threaten and adore…_

"_God give me courage to show you, you are not alone!" _Reaching him, she placed both hands on his chest and, pushing herself up on her toes, pressed her lips to his.

His lips tasted of tears, and she felt his entire body stiffen at her contact. She pulled back and looked at him. His eyes were lost, frightened, and filled with such a desperate longing, pleading her to love him. She was doing it to save Raoul…And yet, she could not help but think of the way her Angel entranced her, how his voice could consume her like no other could, and how tenderly he had treated her that night that seemed years ago.

Her tears now mingled with his as their lips fused, one forlorn soul finding and molding with another. Heat spread from his lips throughout her body, her body static at his touch. Within the kiss she poured everything she felt, betrayal, confusion, misery, passion, and love; for her father, for Raoul…and suddenly she knew, for this tortured creature that lived off her own self. Her mind was lost in a whirl of colour and fire; she felt her pulse race and her skin grow hot.

When he pulled away, she suddenly felt more alone than ever, even empty. She stared at him in stupefaction as he wept, at a loss of what she felt and what to do.

His choked voice broke the silence: "take her, forgive me – forget all of this," he stammered, stumbling away from her. Christine stayed rooted to the ground in shock. "Leave me alone…forget all you've seen."

In a daze, she did as he commanded, scrambling to Raoul and fumbling with the ropes that bound him to the gate.

"Go now, don't let them find you!" The Phantom continued, as the yells of the massive throng of police officers and the public grew closer. "Take the boat, swear to me, never to tell the secret you know, of the _angel in hell!_"

Raoul clumsily embraced her as she finished untying him, and she leaned on him out of pure exhaustion. She wanted to collapse onto the ground and cry endlessly, but something, she knew not what, kept her going.

"_Go now! Go now, and leave me!"_ The Phantom cried, disappearing behind the curtain to Christine's bedroom.

"Christine, come," Raoul urged her quietly, "they will be here soon. Leave him." She was led blindly up to the gondola, shining trails of tears still evident on her cheeks.

Raoul was about to push away from land when she heard an enchantingly familiar song; it was the music box that sat at the foot of her bed. "Wait!" She said desperately.

"Please, Raoul," she stood, cupping his cheek gently. She examined the diamond ring that was still on her finger. "I must go back, just for a moment."

Puzzled, he nodded. She gave him a small smile before stepping from the gondola and vanishing into her room after the Phantom.

She found him with his back turned to her, his figure slumped, watching the monkey slowly clap its cymbals together. His voice was weak with crying.

"_Masquerade...paper faces on parade – masquerade…hide your face, the world will never find you…"_

A wave of sorrow passed over her as she realized how strongly those words related to him, how much they must mean…how much she had never taken into consideration. She realized she had never once asked about his past…who had he been before the Opera? God help her, she hadn't even asked his name.

She moved forward slightly, and he caught sight of her. He turned, leaving his mask discarded on the side. She saw grief beyond his years wrought in his face, like a man who has lost all will to live. He looked at her in wonderment, as though he wasn't sure if she was really there, but didn't care to find out, as long as he saw her. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but not even her voice could save her this time.

His form strengthened in a faint, last hope. _"Christine, I love you."_

She let out a strangled sob. All he had done, all she had done, and his simple final statement shed light on it all. For once, she saw him not as the Opera Ghost or an angel, nor a murderer or a phantom, but a man, willing to do all in his power to keep the woman he loved beside him.

She came to stand beside him, their eyes never leaving each other's as she moved forward, twisting the ring on her finger. "I realized," she said softly, holding back a sob, "that I never asked you your name." Her throat tightened and she closed her eyes tightly, a few tears squeezing through under her eyelids. "I never knew your name."

He stared at her, his breath uneven and shallow. "My name?" He repeated, thrown off by her question. He looked almost defensive, protecting the one last thing he had not revealed to her. "I was not given a name," he murmured with certain coldness. "My mother did not deem me worthy."

She kneeled beside him, and cautiously reached out. He flinched as her hand brushed over his deformed cheek. "Please," she whispered. "Do not fear me."

Unsure, he slowly relaxed. She let her fingers run over the raised veins and welts on his cheek, over his drooping eyelid and stretched nose. She stroked each disfigurement with loving tenderness, and he stared at her in amazement. Then, closing his eyes, he sighed in pleasure.

"My name," he said so quietly she barely heard, "is Erik."

She took his face in both her hands. "Erik," she breathed.

"Christine," he looked at her, his eyes burning brightly with some unidentifiable emotion. Something in her voice…something he had never heard, yet longed to hear all these years… "Why?"

She smiled sadly. _"Who was that shape in the shadows…? Whose is the face in the mask…?" _She let her hands gradually drop away, but his face lingered there, missing her touch. _"Now that my eyes behold him…do I-" _Her voice caught in her throat. She stood and turned away with an ashamed sob.

Hesitantly, Erik stood as well, reaching forward and lightly touching her arm. He was being as gentle as he could, afraid she would recoil, but she barely moved, only glanced at him over her shoulder. With her back to him, she spoke again, softly at first, then with mounting ardor. _"How his voice filled my spirit with a strange sweet sound, in that night there was music in my mind…" _Suddenly, a desperate look in her eyes, she whirled around. _"And from music, my soul began to soar!"_

He saw the same awe-inspired look in her eyes she had when he first brought her to his home, the same fascinated bliss that led her to trust him without doubt. But now, behind that veil of ardor, there was question; like she was examining a puzzle she couldn't solve. _"And I heard, as I've never heard before…"_

"You see me as an Angel," Erik said huskily, "when I can never be anything but a beast." Anger hissed sharply between the cracks of his miserable voice. "I beg of you - do not raise my hopes with a love that is for something I am not, Christine!"

"Perhaps it is you who hates something that was never there to begin with," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "For no other could ever recreate what I felt that night," she grasped his shaking hand and placed it over her heart, "what was here."

He stared at his hand in wonder. Then, after a moment of the only sounds being his harsh breathing and her small, uneven sobs, he said quietly, "I would never have killed him. Even if you had refused to stay – I could not have-"

"Shh," she murmured. "I know."

"Christine, I…I only wish for you to be happy." He stepped back. "If he is what makes you happy," he sucked in a deep breath, then finished, "go."

She did not stir. And though nothing changed, there was _something_…the way her eyes glittered, the slight flush of her cheeks, the way her hand lingered over the spot Erik had rested his…

"We could leave," he said suddenly. "We would not have to stay here, we could go anywhere…anywhere you wanted…"

"Erik…"

"_Say you'll share with me…one love…one lifetime…"_

Christine breathed in sharply. She waited apprehensively for the doubts to flood her head. But none came. There was nothing left to consider.

She smiled in her tears. _"Say the word and I will follow you…"_

Erik sighed in joy and relief. _"Share each day with me, each night…each morning…" _He grasped her hands and pulled her to him. _"Say you love me…"_

"Erik," she tilted her head up. _"I swear I do…"_

His entire face was transformed from the crushed man just minutes ago. His face glowed with rejoice and disbelieving happiness. _"You alone can make my song take flight…"_

"_My Angel…let me lead you to the light…"_

_**FIN**_

**Author's Note: **Well, I've finally started writing again. This was just something I had to get down after seeing the film for the second time. I'd like to write more Phantom, so let me know if I'm any good!


End file.
